There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
Here's some wisdom I picked up while watching an infomercial for Tony Little's Gazelle Sprintmaster - always maintain good form. Sloppy form is how people get killed. Don't think the same is applicable to sucking dick? Neither did she.
Honestly, after making it to the end of this $27.00 budgeted shit show I'm inclined to believe the historical artifact should have stayed forgotten. The full version is over an hour long and makes The Blair Witch Project look like it's part of the Scorsese catalog. I do not recommend.
Today is my old man yells at cloud moment as I inform you that a two foot garden gnome being yoinked out of a woman's lower digestive system makes me feel like the golden age of adult entertainment is long behind us. They truly just don't make them like they used to. It's over.
The last clip is one wild ride, and probably cause for another lockdown Japanese style. Imagine spending weeks convincing your corner store cam girl to accept the blindfolded handicap match, only to watch her get sidelined by a dude that gets cease and desist letters from John Carpenter.
After making it to the end of this one you may want to set some boundaries on your future sexual curiosities. Either that or just start fucking the neighbor's lawn mower in between trimmings because it's a lot easier to explain than this.
Nothing says "the pandemic is over" quite like the uptick in girls increasing their social skank rank by taking their 1-man-band act on the road. Nearly 13 displays of attention-whoring so unprecedented, you'll schedule an STD test just for watching it.
Of all the ways to "tELL mE uR fRoM nEw jErSeY wiThOuT tELLinG mE uR fRoM nEw jErsEy" this actually ranks #2 on the list. Our duo is still 1 deep fried oreo enema away from the gold medal. Shoot for the stars.
